After driving 5 hours, we traded in our mountain views for alpine hills and coastal sunsets. We spent the next 2 days exploring Olympic National Park in Washington State.
Hurricane Hill
On our first day, we started early, arriving at the Hurricane Hill trailhead at 8 a.m. The parking lots were already filling up, with some choosing to park 1.5 miles away and walk the road to the trailhead. Full of optimism, we decided to give it a quick look and were able to get the last spot in the second lot, only adding 0.25 miles to our 3.3-mile hike.
When I researched Hurricane Hill, it was marked as moderate on AllTrails with an elevation gain of 803 feet. I remembered the Manitou Incline in Colorado and thought, if I can conquer 2,000 feet of elevation gain in less than a mile, Hurricane Hill will be a piece of cake.
That was 9 months ago.
Now we stood at the bottom of the paved trailhead as families, hikers, and athletes worked their way up the winding trail. I looked at Chris, his face already exasperated by the daunting path before us. I pulled my lips inward with a determined smile, grabbed his hand, and moved forward.
The hike was challenging, but the wildflowers painted the steep hills on our left, and the sky was clear with only small whispers of clouds floating by. We stopped to take pictures of small pikas and chunky marmots working and scurrying past us.
As we took our first true break to catch our breath and eat a snack, I joked with Chris as he once again told me to steal a pika and put it in my bag to take home.
He does this with all wildlife.
It’s his favorite part of our adventures. He turned around in the Rocky Mountains when he saw a marmot on the brink of a scenic viewpoint. He gasped underwater when a stingray swam past in the Pacific waters of California, and I watched his eyes grow big and gleam with excitement when a young howler monkey ran down a tree in Costa Rica.
It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with him, his care and love for animals. One moment he can be frustrated at traffic or waking up early, but when we get in the midst of a hike, he’ll talk to the lizards or smile at foxes.
We sat there and laughed as I replayed these moments in my head before eventually getting back on our feet and continuing forward.
As we reached the top, the paved trail transitioned to a dirt path after a small scenic viewpoint, with only a few hikers continuing on. I was already awestruck by the rolling hills ahead, but we continued forward. It wasn’t until we reached a turn that I stepped forward and truly took in the beauty before me.
The vibrant green valleys and thick forest transitioned sharply into deep blues that rolled upon each other for miles. Low fog nestled in the crooks and crevices of the ridges, and I found myself wondering if anything before me was truly untouched by human hands.
For a moment, neither of us seemed in a hurry to move. As though, we too, were being cradled by the hills, hushed to sleep.
We embraced this view for some time before making our way to a higher point. I offered to take a picture of two sweet women, and the favor was returned before we began our descent.
As I spoke to Chris about his new hiking poles, his hand grasped my arm, and I was yanked backward and beside him as he gasped, followed by a very quiet, “Move.”
Seconds later, he said, “Oh, it’s just a buck.”
There, tucked beneath one of the only bushes, was a gentle buck observing the crowd.
I bent over in laughter as we joked about his reaction, and I thanked him for “saving my life” before snapping a photo of the handsome creature.
The descent felt a little easier as I used my poles to protect my knees. By the time we made it back to the car, my watch said 5.6 miles.
Well worth it, I thought, as we packed our bags and headed toward the next destination.
The rest of the day continued to be magical. We ate homemade food at Granny’s Café, hiked waterfalls, and swam in the clear turquoise waters of Lake Crescent before making our way to Forks, Washington.
By the time we finished dinner in Forks, the day should have been over. Instead, we headed toward Second Beach.
Second Beach
The temperature had already dropped from a warm 85 degrees to a cool 60 at the entrance of our trail. Initially planning to wear our hiking sandals, the cool breeze from the Pacific waters had us change our minds. So we strapped our sandals to our backpacks and began the journey.
The trail was slick with thick mud and dense forest. Each uneven step reminded me of the deep, ancient roots beneath our shoes. We passed slugs, some peppered in color while others were shades of grays and greens.
Chris stopped to say hello to each one.
He threatened to take one home to be friends with a slug in our garage that he confessed he had been feeding a piece of dog food to every morning.
As always, we left the wildlife where it was meant to be and continued forward.
The beach soon opened before us, and as we continued moving past the trees and brush, the air shifted. Now with every breath and step, wind and ocean mist brushed our cheeks and cooled our noses. Driftwood lay stacked before our trail exit, and we were thankful that we opted for our boots as we climbed and grappled over it, before landing on the white sands of the Washington Coastline.
As we explored the beach, Chris looked for shells and rocks, his bare feet moving in and out of the freezing water. My sensitive feet stayed cocooned in the dry sand as I took pictures with my camera and gazed out at the waves crashing into the islands.
Soon, I became colder than expected, and told Chris we could leave and skip the sunset if he wanted.
He negotiated that we eat our pies from Granny’s Café before we made any decision.
I chose a spot where I felt we’d have the best view, and he grabbed a log for us to use as a bench and to secure our blanket from the howling wind. Pulling the pies from our bag, we laughed as we realized we forgot utensils. Soon, our fingers were covered in apple and blackberry as we talked about daily adventures, family, and why so many photographers were arriving at the beach.
After 20 minutes of eating and watching photographers set up their equipment, we packed up our blanket, and I let out a small squeal.
“The sun is going to set directly behind there,” I said, pointing to the large rock wall with a window carved through centuries of erosion.
At this point, it was 9 p.m., and the cold wind and mist no longer seemed to affect me as we continued to move back and back before finding the perfect spot among a newly formed crowd.
As I sat there, I found myself watching those around us — couples holding hands, solo hikers absorbing the beauty, their eyes glistening with anticipation. I listened to families giggle and banter and observed locals casually relaxing on their picnic blankets as they patiently waited for the big reveal.
There was something comforting about being surrounded by people who had all decided the same thing: no matter the cold or late hour, this was worth staying for.
Gradually, the bright orange sky began to diminish behind the wall, and within moments, bright rays shot forward, creating a path along the rushing waves.
Then came the moment we were all waiting for.
The rays burst through nature’s window, shining with a magnitude that I’m sure scholars and philosophers have written about.
And if not, then why?
My chest seemed to open, and I felt every inch of my body being pulled toward the light. My eyes glistened with appreciation and awe.
A whole-body sense of admiration overwhelmed me, and for a moment, my thoughts settled. I knew this was something to remember.
I looked over at Chris, and for a moment, I didn’t want to take a picture or say anything. I just wanted to remember that I was there, with him, feeling this.
As the sun faded and the light began to dim, we decided to head back up the trail with the little visibility left.
That night, we laid in our tiny house cabin talking about the beauty we just experienced and how thankful I was that Chris had asked to wait.
As sleep pulled us in, I whispered, “That was my favorite part of our day.”
Tide Pools and Coastal Wildlife
At 5:30 a.m., my alarm went off, and we sprung out of bed. I didn’t feel like I had slept, but didn’t have time to snooze. Pulling on our hiking clothes and packing our bags, we jumped in the car, brushing our teeth with water from our canteen and eating our breakfast smoothie pouches.
Low tide was at 2 a.m., but if we could be at the trail by 6 a.m., we should still be able to explore the tide pools.
It took us longer than expected, and at 7 a.m., we were at the end of our trail and on the beach.
My hopes were slowly disappearing as we walked the beach, with waves already covering most of the rocky surfaces. Yet we continued to a group of rocks near the far end.
Suddenly, I stopped and stared at the water. Something had caught my eye but I couldn’t quite place it.
Chris’ eyes were fixed on the ground as he continued forward, searching for shells, when I saw it again and gasped.
Shouting at Chris, we both stopped and watched a sea otter floating on his back, munching on some unknown substance.
We watched him dive, breach, and dive again before floating over the waves as he continued to eat his morning meal. We called him Little Buddy and stayed, admiring the creature, until a family shortly entered, walking along the same path. I pointed out into the water instead of shouting, only continuing once I confirmed they too saw our buddy.
Once we reached the rocks, we saw multiple small tide pools, and I was elated to find so many filled with sea anemones and starfish. We explored the tide pools for about 30 minutes before deciding to head back before the tide got too high.
The morning had already given us more than we expected: a sea otter, tide pools, and another glimpse of this unique stretch of coastline.
Ruby Beach and the Hoh Rain Forest
Our next stop was Ruby Beach and the Hoh Rain Forest.
At Ruby Beach, tall sandstone formations rose throughout the beach, while large and small islands dotted the ocean, ancient trees still standing upon their steep cliffsides.
As we made our way back from the beach, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for how much the morning had already given us. It was perfect, and as we ate our breakfast before driving to the Hoh Rain Forest, we reminisced about our wildlife encounters and the frigid beauty of the coastal landscape.
HOH was stunning, but the 2-hour wait had us running to porta-potties and sharing packs of toilet wipes with strangers. We joked with a man counting cars ahead of us and, on that same trail, laughed with him when we all finally made it.
We did multiple trails, but my favorite was Sol Duc Falls.
The three falls plunged into a fissure, dropping into the creek deep below. Around us, trees grew in odd places — over old bridges, atop signs, and the roots of one tree climbed over concrete blocks.
I stopped to take a picture before showing Chris and telling him about how it reflected life and leadership.
With nature, it seems effortless, but it shows the strength and resilience of life. As humans, we tend to have a choice: grow or stay the same. I think of this often in leadership, but more recently, I’ve also thought about it within my family and, most recently, in my new marriage.
Overcoming barriers and obstacles to grow can be incredibly challenging. Yet, as I thought about where we are today, I realized we have continued to grow over our own concrete blocks.
I could have sat in this spot next to my tree of resilience, listening to the falls roar for hours, but we had a 6:30 p.m. reservation, and so I said my goodbyes to the beauty of the rainforest and we began our descent.
As we exited the trail, it began to sprinkle. Before long, the rain began to pour, and Chris pulled over.
We walked into the forest beneath the dense canopy, where moss draped delicately over each branch. We stood in a small clearing, looking up at the sky and trees as droplets hit our faces and traveled down our cheeks. Then he pulled me in and kissed his now-wife.
His spontaneous romance left me giddy as we jumped back in the car and soon pulled into our last destination in Olympic National Park.
Sol Duc Hot Springs
After days of hiking, our sore muscles needed the healing mineral waters, and Sol Duc Hot Springs was a perfect way to end an incredible, beautiful adventure.
Chris jumped back and forth between the cold water of a larger pool and the small, warm oasis where I relaxed, except for the two times he convinced me to jump in. For the last 30 minutes, we sat shoulder to shoulder as the water flowed around us, easing our tired bodies. For the first time in five days, we weren’t rushing toward the next destination. We were simply sitting still, taking in a moment we never could have planned for.
The Things You Can’t Plan For
I spent nine months planning for Olympic, trying to prepare myself for what we would see.
But there are some things you just can’t plan for.
A sunset that makes you forget you’re cold.
A sea otter appearing when you thought the tide had already won.
A buck hiding beneath a bush while Chris dramatically saves my life.
The way a tree finds a way to grow around whatever stands in its path.
Maybe those are the things I’ll remember most.
Not just the places we went, but the little moments in between.
The moments that made me stop, laugh, feel, and look at the person beside me with a little more gratitude.
Olympic was everything I had hoped it would be.
And somehow, so much more.
Recommendations and Trails
Season – Summer — July
Temperatures – high 80s and low 50’s (drastically different near coastal waters)
Recommends waterproof jackets, boots, and layers
- 📍Airbnb in Sequim, WA
- 🥾Hurricane Hill Trail – arrive before 8am. Parking lot fills up fast
- 🥧 Granny’s Cafe
- 🥾Marymere Falls
- 📍Lake Crescent
- Dinner in Forks, WA
- 🥾🌊 Second Beach – sunset
- Airbnb – La Push, WA
- 🐙Tide pools – Beach 4 (Rialto closed due to construction) Check tide charts for low tide. This time of year negative tide was 2am. we did low tide and still found a few pools.
- 🥾Ruby Beach
- HOH Rainforest – If between 8am and 2pm there will be a wait. We waited 2 hours while others waited around 4.
- 🥾Hall of Mosses
- 🥾Spruce Nature Trail
- 🥾Sol Duc Falls Trail ⭐️
- Sol Duc Hot Springs – Can make reservations online
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